Good for What Ails You
Title: Good for What Ails You
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters/Pairing: John Sheppard/Elizabeth Weir
Orientation: Het
Rating: Gen
Word Count: 4,377
Notes: Happy Holiday for a_blackpanther, bet you thought I forgot your prompt. ❤
Prompt: HC Bingo Fill: “Bullet Wound”
AC Bingo Fill: “Genii in a Bottle”
“I still think this was a bad idea,” Sheppard muttered as he looked around the meadow near the Gate, his weapon raised, eyes alert for any motion.
Elizabeth waggled her hand in the air. “Nonsense, John, we’ve been trading with the people of Rangesh for years. Nothing has ever happened, not once, on any of those trading missions. I wanted to see this society for myself.”
Motioning for Ronon and Stackhouse to take positions around Weir, John set off down the ramp. “Teyla refuses to come here. Doesn’t that tell you something, Elizabeth?”
Snorting lightly, Elizabeth adjusted the zipper on the TAC vest Sheppard had made her wear and walked down the ramp. She tried to ignore the fact that Sergeant Stackhouse and Ronon were practically breathing down her neck. Luckily McKay had opted to remain behind and work on a project, or it was likely he’d have been hovering over her as well.
They made their way to the trees, and were about a half a mile from the village when Sheppard raised a fist in the air and pointed his weapon off the trail to the right. Elizabeth looked where he was aiming, and so didn’t see where the shots came from. She heard the pop of weapons fire, then Ronon’s grunt of pain as he threw himself at her back and landed on top of her, covering her head with his arms. Pressed to the ground, barely able to breathe with his weight on her, she couldn’t hear anything except some muffled shouting after that.
Ronon was suddenly dragged off her, and she rolled over and saw him fighting with their attackers. It took her a moment to realize that the men were dressed in ragged versions of the antiquated green uniforms of the Genii. One of them came up behind Ronon when he was tussling with another and bashed him over the head with the butt of a rifle, knocking him out. Elizabeth’s cry of warning was too late. She looked around and saw Stackhouse’s body, crumpled alongside the trail, his leg at an impossible angle, broken. She looked for Sheppard and saw that he too was down; blood pouring down his face from a wound on his forehead.
“Oh, God, no! John! John!” She scrambled to her feet, trying to get to John. He’d been shot in the head!
A Genii grabbed her around the waist and another put a pistol to her head. “You will come with us, Doctor Weir, or I shall order a bullet put through each of their heads. Do you understand me?”
Numb with fear, Elizabeth nodded. They started to drag her away by the arm. “Please, please, I’ll come quietly, but please let me check on John. I need to know he’s alive.”
“Go.” The Genii shoved her and she stumbled as she ran to get to Sheppard. To her great relief, she found that he was breathing normally. She knelt by his side and pushed the bloody hair off his face, examining the wound that gashed across his scalp. It seemed the bullet had just grazed him, it looked far worse than it was. He was also bleeding from his left arm, that wound seemed more serious, if the bullet was still in there.
“He’ll bleed to death, we can’t leave him - we can’t leave any of them here like this!”
The Genii standing beside Elizabeth sighed heavily and called out, “What about the other two?”
“That’s the only one bleeding. The big one is out cold, the other one just broke his leg.”
“Juls, take him,” the leader pointed at John and one of the men walked over and hoisted John up into a fireman’s carry. “Let’s go. Remember, Doctor Weir, any trouble from you and I shoot him, there will be no second warning.”
They went back to the Gate, and Elizabeth tried to memorize the address they dialed. She was shoved roughly ahead of the men and through the event horizon. Once through the Gate, the men dialed another address. Elizabeth memorized that one as well, but by the fourth planet, she doubted what she had memorized would do any good.
The planet they finally stopped at was hot, humid and jungle-like. There were a lot of bugs. Biting ones.
“That way.” The Genii pushed her forward. They arrived at a clay-brick building.
She was led to a cell, one with real iron bars. Sheppard was dumped on the dirt floor. The Genii had stripped off his TAC vest and gun belt back on the first planet, and taken the knife they found strapped to his ankle. Elizabeth had also been stripped of her vest and frisked for weapons.
“Please, some water and a first aid kit. If he dies, I will not cooperate.”
“Get her what she asked for,” the leader snarled. A minute later, a man came in with the first aid kit and a bucket of water.
“What do you want with me?”
“That will be explained,” the leader said and then left the room.
Elizabeth knelt beside John and rolled him onto his back. She stuck her finger into the hole the bullet had made in his long sleeved tee-shirt and worked at it until she was able to rip the sleeve off. It was the cleanest piece of fabric she was likely to get in this filthy place, so she dropped it onto John’s stomach, intending to use it to wash the blood away. She could use her own shirt for bandaging if she needed to. She leaned over to look at the wound.
“The bullet needs to come out. Do you have a doctor or a medic?” Elizabeth demanded of the Genii guarding the cell. He went to the door and spoke to someone outside.
When he came back he said simply, “Someone will come.”
Elizabeth used the supplies in the kit, John’s torn sleeve, and the water to clean off the head wound as best she could. She wasn’t a medic. She smeared what seemed to be an antiseptic cream on the wound and hoped that Sheppard wasn’t allergic to the Genii medicine.
A man came in with a bag and waved Elizabeth aside. He sat on the floor and looked at John’s arm, then pulled out a thin, sharp knife and made an incision. Using long tongs, he yanked the bullet free. “Missed the artery,” the man told the Genii leader when he came in and stood outside the cell watching the medic work.
The medic pulled out a small bottle, about the size of a bottle of cough medicine, and passed it to Elizabeth. “A capful of that, morning and night, it should help to ward off infection.”
Taking the bottle, Elizabeth huddled against the wall, her arms wrapped around her middle. The man sutured the incision closed and spread more of the cream over the wound before bandaging it up. He left the cell without another word.
“You will come with me now,” the Genii leader said.
He brought her to a room and sat her in a chair in front of a camera. He stood beside her and waved to the camera operator to start recording. “Attention Atlantis, and Ladon Radim the Pretender. I am Captain Shurz of the Genii Liberation Organization. You of course know Doctor Weir. Doctor Weir, please tell your people what has happened.” Shurz moved away to stand out of sight of the camera.
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “I have been captured, obviously. I was taken through four gates after Rangesh. When I last saw them, Ronon was unconscious and Stackhouse had a broken leg. John is with me, he was grazed here with a bullet,” she pointed to her head. “Another had to be removed by the Genii’s medic. He is unconscious. The medic said the bullet missed an artery. Thus far, I have not been harmed. Nor have any demands been made of me.”
“That is enough; take her back to her cell.”
“That’s it?” Elizabeth looked at Shurz in confusion.
He didn’t bother to look at her as he said, “For now.” She was dragged back to the cell and shoved inside.
She sat beside John and checked his bandages. The bleeding had stopped, at least. “John? John, can you hear me?” He tossed his head and gave a groan of pain. “John, wake up.” She pressed her hand to his chest and shook him lightly.
Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. “Urgh. ’lizbeth? Wha’ happened? Ow, damn. Never mind, I remember.” He had been trying to sit up, but sagged back to the floor wearily as soon as he saw the bars of the cell. “Did I get hit with a shovel? Dizzy, ears ringing probably concussed.”
“The Genii medic took a bullet out of your arm. You were also shot in the head, it grazed you, I’m afraid your hair is a mess.”
He winced painfully as he attempted to flex his injured arm. He touched a hand to the cut on his scalp and sucked air through his teeth as his fingers brushed it. “It’s just hair, it’ll grow back. Did they hurt you?”
“No. They pushed me around a little. So far, they just made me record a short message on camera. I don’t know what they want. They haven’t said. They’re part of soemthign called the Genii Liberation Organization. I assume we’re hostages.”
“Do they know who we are?” John’s voice was weak and his eyes were fluttering.
“They know who I am,” Elizabeth left it at that, in case their captors were listening, and in case they didn’t know they also held Colonel Sheppard.
He turned towards her slightly, obviously struggling to stay awake. “Sorry; I’m pretty useless right now.” He closed his eyes and shifted around a little, trying to get comfortable.
“Here, before you fall asleep, drink this, the medic left it for you.” Pouring out a capful of the medicine, she put a hand under his head to lift him and he let out a pained yelp as soon as her fingers touched him. She gingerly felt along the back of his head and found a large lump where he had probably struck his head when he fell. She slid her hand down to his neck and helped him rise up a bit.
Gulping down the medicine, Sheppard made a face. “Tastes like crap,” he mumbled before closing his eyes. Within the space of a few breaths he was out cold.
Elizabeth sat for a long time, thinking about what the Genii wanted, but she grew frustrated with her thoughts, as she had very little information to process and the Genii were unpredictable.
When the overhead lights went out, she stretched out alongside John’s uninjured side, pillowed her head on her arms and attempted to sleep.
~*~
She woke to John thrashing and groaning. She sat up and squinted in the darkness, but was unable to make out anything beyond John’s silhouette. “John?” She fumbled a hand around until she found his shoulder. She pressed down, attempting to still his struggling. She felt along his throat and up to his face. He was soaking wet with a fevered sweat, his skin was very hot under her hand. His breathing was labored as well, she could hear a harsh rasping with each intake of breath.
Scrambling to her feet, Elizabeth lurched to the bars of the cell. “Help! Please, someone, help! Help! Guard! Please come! Help!” she repeated the cries until a guard opened the door at the end of the short hallway, turned on the lights and shuffled towards her, looking quite irritated to have been disturbed.
“What’s going on? What’s the noise about?”
“We need the medic. He’s sick, he has a fever.” Elizabeth pointed towards John and her stomach clenched as she saw how sickly pale he was. He had grown so visibly ill in only a few hours? Surely an infection wouldn’t set in that quickly? The guard glanced at John, saw that she wasn’t lying, grunted and left.
When he came back, he passed a blanket through the bars to Elizabeth. “The medic can’t come until morning. He said give him water and a blanket.”
Irritated, but in no position to make demands, Elizabeth took the blanket and spread it over John. “Could I get some clean water, please?”
The guard hesitated, but then shrugged and left again, returning with a pitcher of cleaner water than the water standing in the bucket had been. She took it and thanked him. It was messy, trying to get John to drink from the pitcher, but she eventually got a substantial amount of water into him.
She tore the hem off her t-shirt, figuring her uniform jacket would cover her bared midriff. She used the material to wash John’s face and neck. Leaning back against the wall, she pulled him up, resting his neck on her thigh so that the bump at the back of his head wasn’t resting on the floor. She felt very lost, not knowing what to do. She wished they were back in Atlantis, where there was a team of doctors that could be helping John.
~*~
Voices from the other room roused her from her doze. John’s breathing was worse and had grown more labored in the past few hours. She pulled the medicine from her pocket and drew off a capful, tipping it to John’s lips. “C’mon, swallow,” she urged, stroking her fingers along his throat. It pained her to see him helpless like this, to feel his skin cold and clammy instead of warm as it usually was. Sliding her fingers along a path she had followed many times with her lips, she almost whimpered in frustration at not being able to do more to help him.
He eventually gulped down the liquid, but this time, he didn’t make any kind of complaint. He was completely unconscious. She dribbled some more water into his mouth and tucked the blanket tighter around him.
The medic eventually turned up, and examined John. “You gave him the medicine?” Elizabeth nodded. The man grunted. “Keep up with it, and the water.” That said, he left, without doing anything to or for John. What kind of care was this? She wondered.
She spent the day worrying, growing more frantic as John seemed to grow weaker by the hour. He wouldn’t wake and was completely unresponsive to her voice. He was burning with fever and limp like a rag doll. She was afraid she was going to lose him. She’d crossed a galaxy and put up with an awful lot of trouble to be with him, and now she was going to lose him to a stupid infection in a backwater jail cell? She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all.
They brought her simple meals. Ignoring her natural inclination to refuse their food; she ate because she needed to keep her strength up to tend to John. She gave John his evening dose and tried to make him comfortable, using her jacket as a pillow for his head. When the lights went out, she pressed up against him under the blanket, his fevered body making up for the warmth she lost by sacrificing the jacket. It was different, being beside him when he was like this, unresponsive and seemingly unaware of her presence.
It was more disturbing the second night when he didn’t move at all. When morning came, his breathing was faint and his complexion waxy and sallow. He was still burning hot, but he was no longer sweating. Forcing back the tears that threatened, Elizabeth gave John another dose of medicine and tended to him as best she could. He was dying in front of her and she couldn’t do anything to stop it.
Captain Shurz strolled down the corridor around mid morning and peered through the bars. “Your companion is not doing very well at all,” he remarked coolly.
Shaking her head, Elizabeth clutched a handful of the blanket and replied in a like tone, “No, he is not. Please, send him through the Gate. I’ll give you an address of one of our trading allies. Keep me, but send him.”
“Now, why would we do that when his presence assures us of your cooperation, Doctor Weir?”
“With what? You haven’t asked me to do anything, all I did was record one silly little message,” she snarled, losing her temper and glaring at the man.
He smirked at her. “That message was to convince them that we indeed have you and are not making a false claim. We will eventually need your help when it comes time to negotiate with Ladon Radim.”
“Negotiate for what?”
“Why, the freedom of the Genii people, a return to the foundations of what made our people who we are.”
Ignoring his idealistic rhetoric, she tried begging again. “Please, he’s dying.”
He shook his head. “No. It would be too risky; we went to a lot of trouble to remain undetected. I will not risk the whole of this this operation for one soldier. And a Lantean soldier, at that.”
Clenching her jaw, Elizabeth hissed through her teeth, “If he dies, I will not help you.”
Shurz leaned forward with a feral gleam in his eyes. “Then it seems that if he dies, so too will you. No matter, we have a contingency plan for such an eventuality. You body will serve just as well, breathing or not. Body parts can be very compelling motivation in hostage negotiations.”
Elizabeth shuddered. He meant it. He would kill her and chop her up. Afraid to give him more ammunition, or worse, provoke him into violence against John, she said no more to him. Eventually he grew bored watching her do nothing and wandered away.
She reached down and twined her fingers through John’s. “We’re in trouble here, Sheppard. We need a little of your infernal luck, and we need it right about now.”
~*~
Pouring out the evening measure of medicine, Elizabeth was about to give it to John when a lot of loud noise in the other room caught her attention. When the door at the end of the corridor blew off the hinges, startling her, she dropped the cap, spilling the dose. She went to the bars and looked to see what was happening, but the hallway was filling with smoke, so she couldn’t see anything.
“Doctor Weir? Doctor Weir?” she heard familiar voices calling her name.
“Ronon? Lorne! This way, we’re in here!”
She breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief when she saw the large shadow of the Satedean coming through the smoke, followed by Major Lorne. Jingling the ring of keys, Ronon immediately went to the door and began trying them, his eyes constantly going to John as Lorne stood guard, his weapon held up and ready as his eyes constantly scanned the hallway.
“Are you all right, Doctor Weir?” Lorne asked.
She waved a hand, “I’m fine. John really needs a doctor now. He’s in a very bad way.” She crossed the cell and checked his breathing, which had grown fainter in the past few hours. She debated about giving him the dose she’d just missed, but decided to let Beckett and Earth medicines have a go at whatever it was that was weakening John. She twisted the cap back onto the bottle and clutched it tightly in her hand as Ronon opened the door and charged in, kneeling beside John and checking him over. He frowned at what he saw.
Lorne had radioed for a stretcher and soon two sergeants came running though the smoke, carrying a field stretcher between them. With Ronon’s help, they carefully lifted John and tucked blankets around him and carried him out. Elizabeth retrieved her folded jacket and put it on, slipping the bottle into her pocket as Lorne took her elbow and led her from the cell.
On their way out, she recognized some of Ladon Radim’s men from their trips to Atlantis with the Genii leader. Everywhere there were bodies of the rebels, including, Elizabeth saw, Captain Shurz. Lorne explained that it had been Radim that had gotten them the location of the rebels, using spies that had wormed their way into the Genii Liberation Organization. They had been more than happy to lend a hand with the rescue operation.
Boarding the puddlejumper just a scant few steps behind the litter-bearers, Elizabeth sank wearily onto a rear bench as Lorne dashed forward to the pilot’s seat to get them home. Ronon paced between the forward compartment and the rear, holding onto the cargo nets for support.
Elizabeth watched John from the moment she sat down until the moment Beckett and his team wheeled him away on a gurney.
~*~
After checking her over, they made her go home and shower and eat before letting her come back to the infirmary to wait for news about John.
Pushing away from the wall she had been leaning on for the support it offered, Elizabeth looked at Doctor Beckett expectantly and asked the question that had been troubling her since John fell ill. “Why did he get so sick so quickly?”
“Poison. We’re treating the symptoms now. Did he eat any of the food they gave you… Elizabeth, what’s wrong?”
She had clasped a hand to her mouth in shock. Her other hand shook as she stuck it into her jacket pocket and withdrew the bottle the Genii medic had given her and handed it over to Beckett. “Their medic gave me that; he told me it would fight infection.”
Beckett twisted the cap off and sniffed at it. “Aye, that might be it, something smells a little off about it. I’ll have one of the chemists examine it. How much of this did you give him?”
“Four doses, one capful, night and morning,” she mumbled. She’d done this, she had almost killed John.
“They tricked you, love. It isn’t your fault. They preyed on your good nature, knowing you’d try to help him. It must have part of their plan.” Beckett patted her arm. “It’s good you brought this; we should have no trouble making a proper antidote.”
She nodded. “May I see him?”
Beckett nodded and she followed him through the infirmary to a curtained off area. John was still very pale; he had an oxygen mask over his face and a lot of IV bags hanging beside the bed. Peering into John’s eyes with his tiny flashlight, Beckett told Elizabeth, “I’m hoping his oxygen levels will stay up so I don’t have to put a breathing tube in. He’s responding well so far to everything we’ve done, so I’m hopeful he won’t take a bad turn. It was lucky Radim’s people came through when they did, I don’t think he would have survived another dose or two of that poison.”
Nodding, Elizabeth slid into the chair beside his bed and reached up to take John’s hand. If he was awake, he would probably fuss at her, but since he wasn’t, she stole the comfort holding onto him gave her while she sat and worried about him.
~*~
John opened his eyes and recognized the familiar tiles of the Atlantis infirmary over his head. Glancing down towards the weight he felt near his hip, he saw that Elizabeth was slumped over in her chair, her head resting against his left side. She had his left hand clenched lightly in hers and she was snoring quietly.
He did a quick inventory and found all his body parts in the proper places, and everything seemed to be his own. This was Pegasus; he took nothing for granted anymore. His left arm had a dull ache that he knew from experience would take weeks to fully subside. His head also hurt, again, experience told him what to expect. He was a little busted up, but he figured he’d live.
Reaching over with his right hand, he stroked Elizabeth’s hair. After a minute, she woke suddenly, jerking upright and looking at him stupidly. He smiled as his hand dropped away. “Hey.”
“You’re awake!”
“Yup. So are you, now.”
“How long have you been up?”
“A few minutes. Did you get the bad guys?”
She smiled lightly and gave a quick nod. “Radim, Ronon and Lorne took care of it. How do you feel, John?”
“I’ll be fine. Just a little sore. I won’t be boxing any time soon.”
Elizabeth blurted out, “I almost killed you.”
“No you didn’t. The Genii just put a few holes in me. I’m fine.”
“I poisoned you! You nearly died, John.”
He tilted his head and then smirked, “You know, if you didn’t want to see me anymore, you could have just said so, there really was no need to go to extremes, Elizabeth. I’m really quite reasonable.”
Staring at him, she sniffled. “I almost killed you and you’re making jokes?”
He shrugged, and then winced when the motion made his arm hurt. “Someone’s always trying to kill me, it’s a coping mechanism. So, why’d you try to kill me? Toothpaste, toilet seat, not paying enough attention? Did I miss your birthday?”
“John.”
“Elizabeth. Your motive? I try to learn from each attempted assassination. It helps build character.”
“The Genii medic gave me what I thought was medicine, it was poison,” she said quietly after sighing deeply at his cheery, encouraging smile.
He smiled. “So, you’re not trying to call this whole… thing… off?” He waved a finger between them.
“What? No! Of course not, I like our… thing.”
“Okay, good. The Genii suck. Don’t take bottles from Genii in the future, lesson learned, we’re all good.”
She blinked at him stupidly and then leaned over and kissed him. “Whenever I forget why I love you, you do something to remind me.”
He smirked “I try. Coping mechanism, I try to learn a…” she cut him off by kissing him again.
The End
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters/Pairing: John Sheppard/Elizabeth Weir
Orientation: Het
Rating: Gen
Word Count: 4,377
Notes: Happy Holiday for a_blackpanther, bet you thought I forgot your prompt. ❤
Prompt: HC Bingo Fill: “Bullet Wound”
AC Bingo Fill: “Genii in a Bottle”
“I still think this was a bad idea,” Sheppard muttered as he looked around the meadow near the Gate, his weapon raised, eyes alert for any motion.
Elizabeth waggled her hand in the air. “Nonsense, John, we’ve been trading with the people of Rangesh for years. Nothing has ever happened, not once, on any of those trading missions. I wanted to see this society for myself.”
Motioning for Ronon and Stackhouse to take positions around Weir, John set off down the ramp. “Teyla refuses to come here. Doesn’t that tell you something, Elizabeth?”
Snorting lightly, Elizabeth adjusted the zipper on the TAC vest Sheppard had made her wear and walked down the ramp. She tried to ignore the fact that Sergeant Stackhouse and Ronon were practically breathing down her neck. Luckily McKay had opted to remain behind and work on a project, or it was likely he’d have been hovering over her as well.
They made their way to the trees, and were about a half a mile from the village when Sheppard raised a fist in the air and pointed his weapon off the trail to the right. Elizabeth looked where he was aiming, and so didn’t see where the shots came from. She heard the pop of weapons fire, then Ronon’s grunt of pain as he threw himself at her back and landed on top of her, covering her head with his arms. Pressed to the ground, barely able to breathe with his weight on her, she couldn’t hear anything except some muffled shouting after that.
Ronon was suddenly dragged off her, and she rolled over and saw him fighting with their attackers. It took her a moment to realize that the men were dressed in ragged versions of the antiquated green uniforms of the Genii. One of them came up behind Ronon when he was tussling with another and bashed him over the head with the butt of a rifle, knocking him out. Elizabeth’s cry of warning was too late. She looked around and saw Stackhouse’s body, crumpled alongside the trail, his leg at an impossible angle, broken. She looked for Sheppard and saw that he too was down; blood pouring down his face from a wound on his forehead.
“Oh, God, no! John! John!” She scrambled to her feet, trying to get to John. He’d been shot in the head!
A Genii grabbed her around the waist and another put a pistol to her head. “You will come with us, Doctor Weir, or I shall order a bullet put through each of their heads. Do you understand me?”
Numb with fear, Elizabeth nodded. They started to drag her away by the arm. “Please, please, I’ll come quietly, but please let me check on John. I need to know he’s alive.”
“Go.” The Genii shoved her and she stumbled as she ran to get to Sheppard. To her great relief, she found that he was breathing normally. She knelt by his side and pushed the bloody hair off his face, examining the wound that gashed across his scalp. It seemed the bullet had just grazed him, it looked far worse than it was. He was also bleeding from his left arm, that wound seemed more serious, if the bullet was still in there.
“He’ll bleed to death, we can’t leave him - we can’t leave any of them here like this!”
The Genii standing beside Elizabeth sighed heavily and called out, “What about the other two?”
“That’s the only one bleeding. The big one is out cold, the other one just broke his leg.”
“Juls, take him,” the leader pointed at John and one of the men walked over and hoisted John up into a fireman’s carry. “Let’s go. Remember, Doctor Weir, any trouble from you and I shoot him, there will be no second warning.”
They went back to the Gate, and Elizabeth tried to memorize the address they dialed. She was shoved roughly ahead of the men and through the event horizon. Once through the Gate, the men dialed another address. Elizabeth memorized that one as well, but by the fourth planet, she doubted what she had memorized would do any good.
The planet they finally stopped at was hot, humid and jungle-like. There were a lot of bugs. Biting ones.
“That way.” The Genii pushed her forward. They arrived at a clay-brick building.
She was led to a cell, one with real iron bars. Sheppard was dumped on the dirt floor. The Genii had stripped off his TAC vest and gun belt back on the first planet, and taken the knife they found strapped to his ankle. Elizabeth had also been stripped of her vest and frisked for weapons.
“Please, some water and a first aid kit. If he dies, I will not cooperate.”
“Get her what she asked for,” the leader snarled. A minute later, a man came in with the first aid kit and a bucket of water.
“What do you want with me?”
“That will be explained,” the leader said and then left the room.
Elizabeth knelt beside John and rolled him onto his back. She stuck her finger into the hole the bullet had made in his long sleeved tee-shirt and worked at it until she was able to rip the sleeve off. It was the cleanest piece of fabric she was likely to get in this filthy place, so she dropped it onto John’s stomach, intending to use it to wash the blood away. She could use her own shirt for bandaging if she needed to. She leaned over to look at the wound.
“The bullet needs to come out. Do you have a doctor or a medic?” Elizabeth demanded of the Genii guarding the cell. He went to the door and spoke to someone outside.
When he came back he said simply, “Someone will come.”
Elizabeth used the supplies in the kit, John’s torn sleeve, and the water to clean off the head wound as best she could. She wasn’t a medic. She smeared what seemed to be an antiseptic cream on the wound and hoped that Sheppard wasn’t allergic to the Genii medicine.
A man came in with a bag and waved Elizabeth aside. He sat on the floor and looked at John’s arm, then pulled out a thin, sharp knife and made an incision. Using long tongs, he yanked the bullet free. “Missed the artery,” the man told the Genii leader when he came in and stood outside the cell watching the medic work.
The medic pulled out a small bottle, about the size of a bottle of cough medicine, and passed it to Elizabeth. “A capful of that, morning and night, it should help to ward off infection.”
Taking the bottle, Elizabeth huddled against the wall, her arms wrapped around her middle. The man sutured the incision closed and spread more of the cream over the wound before bandaging it up. He left the cell without another word.
“You will come with me now,” the Genii leader said.
He brought her to a room and sat her in a chair in front of a camera. He stood beside her and waved to the camera operator to start recording. “Attention Atlantis, and Ladon Radim the Pretender. I am Captain Shurz of the Genii Liberation Organization. You of course know Doctor Weir. Doctor Weir, please tell your people what has happened.” Shurz moved away to stand out of sight of the camera.
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “I have been captured, obviously. I was taken through four gates after Rangesh. When I last saw them, Ronon was unconscious and Stackhouse had a broken leg. John is with me, he was grazed here with a bullet,” she pointed to her head. “Another had to be removed by the Genii’s medic. He is unconscious. The medic said the bullet missed an artery. Thus far, I have not been harmed. Nor have any demands been made of me.”
“That is enough; take her back to her cell.”
“That’s it?” Elizabeth looked at Shurz in confusion.
He didn’t bother to look at her as he said, “For now.” She was dragged back to the cell and shoved inside.
She sat beside John and checked his bandages. The bleeding had stopped, at least. “John? John, can you hear me?” He tossed his head and gave a groan of pain. “John, wake up.” She pressed her hand to his chest and shook him lightly.
Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. “Urgh. ’lizbeth? Wha’ happened? Ow, damn. Never mind, I remember.” He had been trying to sit up, but sagged back to the floor wearily as soon as he saw the bars of the cell. “Did I get hit with a shovel? Dizzy, ears ringing probably concussed.”
“The Genii medic took a bullet out of your arm. You were also shot in the head, it grazed you, I’m afraid your hair is a mess.”
He winced painfully as he attempted to flex his injured arm. He touched a hand to the cut on his scalp and sucked air through his teeth as his fingers brushed it. “It’s just hair, it’ll grow back. Did they hurt you?”
“No. They pushed me around a little. So far, they just made me record a short message on camera. I don’t know what they want. They haven’t said. They’re part of soemthign called the Genii Liberation Organization. I assume we’re hostages.”
“Do they know who we are?” John’s voice was weak and his eyes were fluttering.
“They know who I am,” Elizabeth left it at that, in case their captors were listening, and in case they didn’t know they also held Colonel Sheppard.
He turned towards her slightly, obviously struggling to stay awake. “Sorry; I’m pretty useless right now.” He closed his eyes and shifted around a little, trying to get comfortable.
“Here, before you fall asleep, drink this, the medic left it for you.” Pouring out a capful of the medicine, she put a hand under his head to lift him and he let out a pained yelp as soon as her fingers touched him. She gingerly felt along the back of his head and found a large lump where he had probably struck his head when he fell. She slid her hand down to his neck and helped him rise up a bit.
Gulping down the medicine, Sheppard made a face. “Tastes like crap,” he mumbled before closing his eyes. Within the space of a few breaths he was out cold.
Elizabeth sat for a long time, thinking about what the Genii wanted, but she grew frustrated with her thoughts, as she had very little information to process and the Genii were unpredictable.
When the overhead lights went out, she stretched out alongside John’s uninjured side, pillowed her head on her arms and attempted to sleep.
~*~
She woke to John thrashing and groaning. She sat up and squinted in the darkness, but was unable to make out anything beyond John’s silhouette. “John?” She fumbled a hand around until she found his shoulder. She pressed down, attempting to still his struggling. She felt along his throat and up to his face. He was soaking wet with a fevered sweat, his skin was very hot under her hand. His breathing was labored as well, she could hear a harsh rasping with each intake of breath.
Scrambling to her feet, Elizabeth lurched to the bars of the cell. “Help! Please, someone, help! Help! Guard! Please come! Help!” she repeated the cries until a guard opened the door at the end of the short hallway, turned on the lights and shuffled towards her, looking quite irritated to have been disturbed.
“What’s going on? What’s the noise about?”
“We need the medic. He’s sick, he has a fever.” Elizabeth pointed towards John and her stomach clenched as she saw how sickly pale he was. He had grown so visibly ill in only a few hours? Surely an infection wouldn’t set in that quickly? The guard glanced at John, saw that she wasn’t lying, grunted and left.
When he came back, he passed a blanket through the bars to Elizabeth. “The medic can’t come until morning. He said give him water and a blanket.”
Irritated, but in no position to make demands, Elizabeth took the blanket and spread it over John. “Could I get some clean water, please?”
The guard hesitated, but then shrugged and left again, returning with a pitcher of cleaner water than the water standing in the bucket had been. She took it and thanked him. It was messy, trying to get John to drink from the pitcher, but she eventually got a substantial amount of water into him.
She tore the hem off her t-shirt, figuring her uniform jacket would cover her bared midriff. She used the material to wash John’s face and neck. Leaning back against the wall, she pulled him up, resting his neck on her thigh so that the bump at the back of his head wasn’t resting on the floor. She felt very lost, not knowing what to do. She wished they were back in Atlantis, where there was a team of doctors that could be helping John.
~*~
Voices from the other room roused her from her doze. John’s breathing was worse and had grown more labored in the past few hours. She pulled the medicine from her pocket and drew off a capful, tipping it to John’s lips. “C’mon, swallow,” she urged, stroking her fingers along his throat. It pained her to see him helpless like this, to feel his skin cold and clammy instead of warm as it usually was. Sliding her fingers along a path she had followed many times with her lips, she almost whimpered in frustration at not being able to do more to help him.
He eventually gulped down the liquid, but this time, he didn’t make any kind of complaint. He was completely unconscious. She dribbled some more water into his mouth and tucked the blanket tighter around him.
The medic eventually turned up, and examined John. “You gave him the medicine?” Elizabeth nodded. The man grunted. “Keep up with it, and the water.” That said, he left, without doing anything to or for John. What kind of care was this? She wondered.
She spent the day worrying, growing more frantic as John seemed to grow weaker by the hour. He wouldn’t wake and was completely unresponsive to her voice. He was burning with fever and limp like a rag doll. She was afraid she was going to lose him. She’d crossed a galaxy and put up with an awful lot of trouble to be with him, and now she was going to lose him to a stupid infection in a backwater jail cell? She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all.
They brought her simple meals. Ignoring her natural inclination to refuse their food; she ate because she needed to keep her strength up to tend to John. She gave John his evening dose and tried to make him comfortable, using her jacket as a pillow for his head. When the lights went out, she pressed up against him under the blanket, his fevered body making up for the warmth she lost by sacrificing the jacket. It was different, being beside him when he was like this, unresponsive and seemingly unaware of her presence.
It was more disturbing the second night when he didn’t move at all. When morning came, his breathing was faint and his complexion waxy and sallow. He was still burning hot, but he was no longer sweating. Forcing back the tears that threatened, Elizabeth gave John another dose of medicine and tended to him as best she could. He was dying in front of her and she couldn’t do anything to stop it.
Captain Shurz strolled down the corridor around mid morning and peered through the bars. “Your companion is not doing very well at all,” he remarked coolly.
Shaking her head, Elizabeth clutched a handful of the blanket and replied in a like tone, “No, he is not. Please, send him through the Gate. I’ll give you an address of one of our trading allies. Keep me, but send him.”
“Now, why would we do that when his presence assures us of your cooperation, Doctor Weir?”
“With what? You haven’t asked me to do anything, all I did was record one silly little message,” she snarled, losing her temper and glaring at the man.
He smirked at her. “That message was to convince them that we indeed have you and are not making a false claim. We will eventually need your help when it comes time to negotiate with Ladon Radim.”
“Negotiate for what?”
“Why, the freedom of the Genii people, a return to the foundations of what made our people who we are.”
Ignoring his idealistic rhetoric, she tried begging again. “Please, he’s dying.”
He shook his head. “No. It would be too risky; we went to a lot of trouble to remain undetected. I will not risk the whole of this this operation for one soldier. And a Lantean soldier, at that.”
Clenching her jaw, Elizabeth hissed through her teeth, “If he dies, I will not help you.”
Shurz leaned forward with a feral gleam in his eyes. “Then it seems that if he dies, so too will you. No matter, we have a contingency plan for such an eventuality. You body will serve just as well, breathing or not. Body parts can be very compelling motivation in hostage negotiations.”
Elizabeth shuddered. He meant it. He would kill her and chop her up. Afraid to give him more ammunition, or worse, provoke him into violence against John, she said no more to him. Eventually he grew bored watching her do nothing and wandered away.
She reached down and twined her fingers through John’s. “We’re in trouble here, Sheppard. We need a little of your infernal luck, and we need it right about now.”
~*~
Pouring out the evening measure of medicine, Elizabeth was about to give it to John when a lot of loud noise in the other room caught her attention. When the door at the end of the corridor blew off the hinges, startling her, she dropped the cap, spilling the dose. She went to the bars and looked to see what was happening, but the hallway was filling with smoke, so she couldn’t see anything.
“Doctor Weir? Doctor Weir?” she heard familiar voices calling her name.
“Ronon? Lorne! This way, we’re in here!”
She breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief when she saw the large shadow of the Satedean coming through the smoke, followed by Major Lorne. Jingling the ring of keys, Ronon immediately went to the door and began trying them, his eyes constantly going to John as Lorne stood guard, his weapon held up and ready as his eyes constantly scanned the hallway.
“Are you all right, Doctor Weir?” Lorne asked.
She waved a hand, “I’m fine. John really needs a doctor now. He’s in a very bad way.” She crossed the cell and checked his breathing, which had grown fainter in the past few hours. She debated about giving him the dose she’d just missed, but decided to let Beckett and Earth medicines have a go at whatever it was that was weakening John. She twisted the cap back onto the bottle and clutched it tightly in her hand as Ronon opened the door and charged in, kneeling beside John and checking him over. He frowned at what he saw.
Lorne had radioed for a stretcher and soon two sergeants came running though the smoke, carrying a field stretcher between them. With Ronon’s help, they carefully lifted John and tucked blankets around him and carried him out. Elizabeth retrieved her folded jacket and put it on, slipping the bottle into her pocket as Lorne took her elbow and led her from the cell.
On their way out, she recognized some of Ladon Radim’s men from their trips to Atlantis with the Genii leader. Everywhere there were bodies of the rebels, including, Elizabeth saw, Captain Shurz. Lorne explained that it had been Radim that had gotten them the location of the rebels, using spies that had wormed their way into the Genii Liberation Organization. They had been more than happy to lend a hand with the rescue operation.
Boarding the puddlejumper just a scant few steps behind the litter-bearers, Elizabeth sank wearily onto a rear bench as Lorne dashed forward to the pilot’s seat to get them home. Ronon paced between the forward compartment and the rear, holding onto the cargo nets for support.
Elizabeth watched John from the moment she sat down until the moment Beckett and his team wheeled him away on a gurney.
~*~
After checking her over, they made her go home and shower and eat before letting her come back to the infirmary to wait for news about John.
Pushing away from the wall she had been leaning on for the support it offered, Elizabeth looked at Doctor Beckett expectantly and asked the question that had been troubling her since John fell ill. “Why did he get so sick so quickly?”
“Poison. We’re treating the symptoms now. Did he eat any of the food they gave you… Elizabeth, what’s wrong?”
She had clasped a hand to her mouth in shock. Her other hand shook as she stuck it into her jacket pocket and withdrew the bottle the Genii medic had given her and handed it over to Beckett. “Their medic gave me that; he told me it would fight infection.”
Beckett twisted the cap off and sniffed at it. “Aye, that might be it, something smells a little off about it. I’ll have one of the chemists examine it. How much of this did you give him?”
“Four doses, one capful, night and morning,” she mumbled. She’d done this, she had almost killed John.
“They tricked you, love. It isn’t your fault. They preyed on your good nature, knowing you’d try to help him. It must have part of their plan.” Beckett patted her arm. “It’s good you brought this; we should have no trouble making a proper antidote.”
She nodded. “May I see him?”
Beckett nodded and she followed him through the infirmary to a curtained off area. John was still very pale; he had an oxygen mask over his face and a lot of IV bags hanging beside the bed. Peering into John’s eyes with his tiny flashlight, Beckett told Elizabeth, “I’m hoping his oxygen levels will stay up so I don’t have to put a breathing tube in. He’s responding well so far to everything we’ve done, so I’m hopeful he won’t take a bad turn. It was lucky Radim’s people came through when they did, I don’t think he would have survived another dose or two of that poison.”
Nodding, Elizabeth slid into the chair beside his bed and reached up to take John’s hand. If he was awake, he would probably fuss at her, but since he wasn’t, she stole the comfort holding onto him gave her while she sat and worried about him.
~*~
John opened his eyes and recognized the familiar tiles of the Atlantis infirmary over his head. Glancing down towards the weight he felt near his hip, he saw that Elizabeth was slumped over in her chair, her head resting against his left side. She had his left hand clenched lightly in hers and she was snoring quietly.
He did a quick inventory and found all his body parts in the proper places, and everything seemed to be his own. This was Pegasus; he took nothing for granted anymore. His left arm had a dull ache that he knew from experience would take weeks to fully subside. His head also hurt, again, experience told him what to expect. He was a little busted up, but he figured he’d live.
Reaching over with his right hand, he stroked Elizabeth’s hair. After a minute, she woke suddenly, jerking upright and looking at him stupidly. He smiled as his hand dropped away. “Hey.”
“You’re awake!”
“Yup. So are you, now.”
“How long have you been up?”
“A few minutes. Did you get the bad guys?”
She smiled lightly and gave a quick nod. “Radim, Ronon and Lorne took care of it. How do you feel, John?”
“I’ll be fine. Just a little sore. I won’t be boxing any time soon.”
Elizabeth blurted out, “I almost killed you.”
“No you didn’t. The Genii just put a few holes in me. I’m fine.”
“I poisoned you! You nearly died, John.”
He tilted his head and then smirked, “You know, if you didn’t want to see me anymore, you could have just said so, there really was no need to go to extremes, Elizabeth. I’m really quite reasonable.”
Staring at him, she sniffled. “I almost killed you and you’re making jokes?”
He shrugged, and then winced when the motion made his arm hurt. “Someone’s always trying to kill me, it’s a coping mechanism. So, why’d you try to kill me? Toothpaste, toilet seat, not paying enough attention? Did I miss your birthday?”
“John.”
“Elizabeth. Your motive? I try to learn from each attempted assassination. It helps build character.”
“The Genii medic gave me what I thought was medicine, it was poison,” she said quietly after sighing deeply at his cheery, encouraging smile.
He smiled. “So, you’re not trying to call this whole… thing… off?” He waved a finger between them.
“What? No! Of course not, I like our… thing.”
“Okay, good. The Genii suck. Don’t take bottles from Genii in the future, lesson learned, we’re all good.”
She blinked at him stupidly and then leaned over and kissed him. “Whenever I forget why I love you, you do something to remind me.”
He smirked “I try. Coping mechanism, I try to learn a…” she cut him off by kissing him again.
The End